Diabolus In Musica

Secluded in his monastery cell,
A monk sat softly strumming at his lute,
When suddenly his fingers hit the root
Then stumbled on the fifth, and slowly fell;
At first, he felt his minor err was moot,
But then he played again and played it well;
In shock, he thought he saw the fires of hell
Before him, with the devil in pursuit.
As years went on, the church forbade the play
And composition of that triple tone,
As though its very sound bred carnal awe;
And there are those who, to this very day,
Still feel that no musician should condone
That fourth: diabolus in musica.